Silentous Songs
by EvilQuarantine
Summary: A story of unheard songs of little birds, tweets lost to war horns and how the Prince and the Spider decide control the fate of the world through them. Changed plot. No dedicated pairing.


**Illyrio**

The queer red star was at it again, showering blood over the skies. A prelude to the shower of blood on Westerosi soil that Varys assured would happen. _Another bloody war!_ swore Illyrio Mopatis. The fat Merchant gazed at the red star from his manse in Essos, absentmindedly comparing it to the blood red of the Arbor wine in his goblet.

"What do you say, Pike? What does the star mean?" Illyrio asked his accountant in foul temper.

"A dying star, my prince. Stars that burn out and start moving." Pike, his freckle faced accountant replied as he continued to fill the ledger with a practiced hand.

"You say that so surely, boy..."

"Maesters have proved it, appears once every one and a half decade, they say. Clockwork!" He replied, deigning to move his quill to imitate a sundial.

"Some believe it's the coming of the dragon, Pike." Illyrio said lightheartedly as he looked out the window and spied on the little bird entering his gates.

"Some would believe anything that benefits them, you yourself included, my prince."

Illyrio snickered at that. Was the lad not right in the end?

"Pray it heralds the coming of the dragon and the rivers of wealth that it brings to me." Illyrio toasted and Pike reluctantly raised his glass.

" _Fat men and their fat fucking wallets_ …" Pike cursed under his breath as he closed the ledger and yawned. _Comely lad_ , Illyrio commented, _honest, freckled face, thinning brown hair and tired brown eyes, a master with numbers, but no older than seven and ten._

A knock on the door and after a beat it opened inwards, two Unsullied soldiers led the little bird into his chamber. Pike looked at Illyrio, asking if he should leave. Illyrio shrugged his heavy shoulders and gave the lad free reign of what to do. There was little an accountant could do with information that does not relate to his work. Besides, Illyrio liked to think the lad was loyal to him.

"Grave tiding, Magister." The little bird, a short, balding man started. He was one of the hedge knights in the Dragonstone garrison. It must be grave indeed if Varys deemed it necessary to displace a knight from the surveillance of Ol' King Stannis.

"The war between Starks and Lannisters broke out in the Riverlands, m'lord. Lord Renly is runnin' to and fro between Highgarden and Storm's End, eager to place a flowery crown on him head." The old knight spoke in the Common Tongue, with an odd use of both plebian and civilized accents.

The war was inevitable. Illyrio had already received tidings of the young stagling from friends in Highgarden. There had to be more.

"Lord Varys cautions you against disturbing rumors, m'lord. It seems them Ironmen are settin' sail from that godforsaken island of theirs. They've come a long way to be sure. A small fleet is raiding all along the Stepstones."

Pike bristled beside Illyrio.

That was grave news indeed. Illyrio, being a merchant, did not and could not own warships. The ships that he had in mind for the Golden Company were merchant-ships and a few galleys he could spare.

"Dorne remains unresponsive?" Illyrio asked and took a sniff of poppy powder to counter the oncoming headache.

"Seems so, them gelded, toothless snakes!" Ironmen clearly made the hedge knight nervous _. If it were me who sails to and fro Westeros through the Narrow Sea, I would have been nervous too;_ Illyrio thought and chuckled a little.

"About the sick sailor, has he said anything?" Illyrio asked. The hedge knight produced a tiny scroll from under his mismatched thighguard and gave it to Pike. The good accountant unrolled it and passed it to the Merchant with a shard of viewing glass from a drawer.

Three words, short like Varys' stump of a cock. _Priestess Eryos Myr._

Now this was a surprise. Varys made his distaste for sorcery quite clear from the first time they met in Tyrosh. Perhaps, Illyrio should be grateful to his god friend who went as far as to look amidst queer shadowbinders for a cure.

"He urges you not to be hasty with grief, whatever that means." The man wisely pondered into the matter no further. Very few knew about the 'grief' Varys meant.

 _Of course he does, he's not the one with Greyscale!_ Illyrio thought ruefully, once again conscious of the hardening skin under his stomach. His left hand felt and caressed the affliction through the ostentatious yellow silk. Illyrio heaved out another sigh.

No, it was too late now. Daggers had been sent after the _khal_ as soon as news of Viserys' 'crowning' reached him. It would not be long now. Ships had hoisted their sails and golden banners in the Gulf of Grief, ready and waiting for golden words to be kept.

"That was all, 'lord. Any news for the Spider's ears?"

Illyrio did not believe himself to be an expressly bad person. But some things just needed to be done. Eyes in Pentos have seen a Westerosi knight enter Illyrio's manse. Letting him alive was too dangerous.

One look from Illyrio was all it took for the Unsullied eunuch to bludgeon the poor knight into unconsciousness with the butt of his spear. The sellswords on hand stripped the ragtag armor, the sword, the hidden dagger, boots and all with practiced hands. Illyrio paid his men quite well but old habits don't die at all when it came to cutthroats. The old hedge knight clad in a ratty shirt and breeches was dragged away.

Pike searched his pocket and tossed two coppers to the mercenaries who dragged the man away.

"For the Drowned God's palace guards." He said quietly.

The mercenary nodded and replied. " _Aye_."

Illyrio gave them leave and waved off Pike as well. Pike bowed and closed the doors behind him, leaving Illyrio to his own thoughts.

Pike's Ironmen heritage was a well-known rumor to those employed in the manse. Once, very long ago, a lone ship of the Iron Fleet raided a fishing village in the Orange Shore on the Summer Sea. The sole survivor was a pretty young lass who had her tongue cut off by the Ironmen. One of Illyrio's merchant vessels picked her up and she bore a young babe nine moons later with brown hair and brown eyes. Rumors say it was _the_ _Silence_ that raided that village and one particular Ironman is known for leaving his victims deaf, dumb and with child. Crow's Eye, Euron Crow's Eye. A monster too monstrous even for the Ironmen and thus exiled by his own brother Balon Greyjoy, the Lord of Iron Islands.

Illyrio had little use for the babe, even if it was a Greyjoy bastard. _A fine tale for the tavern_ \- was all the babe had been to the merchant. His mastery with numbers had been a blessing out of the blue. Illyrio named him Pike after the mother died and employed exiled maesters to teach him. Pike often fancied himself a lordling, a prince- when he had been a child, even kept to the Drowned God's faith.

Illyrio looked at the scroll Varys had sent him.

 _Priestess Eryos Myr_

A Red Priestess in all likeliness with Eryos being the name. Even if this priestess could cure Greyscale, it would not come free. Sacrifices had to be made.

'There is great magic in King's blood.' And Illyrio had three kingspawn at hand.

* * *

Afterwards ruin the story. I won't be doing them. Thanks for reading.


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